


An Exercise in Learning

by Pokeydotes



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Irondad, Sickfic, spiderson, tony trying his best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 11:52:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22715614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pokeydotes/pseuds/Pokeydotes
Summary: Tony Stark is a lot of things. A genius, superhero, inventor, smartass....but a parent isn't one of them. So how was he to know what to do with a sick teenager a thousand miles from home?Or the one where Peter gets all phlegmy and Tony learns there's more to taking care of the kid than just building fancy suits.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 33
Kudos: 439





	An Exercise in Learning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This was written for AinsleyWright for the Irondad 2020 gift exchange. It was an adventure writing this, mostly because there were elements I've never done before. I hope you enjoy!

“I don’t wanna go.”

“So you’ve said,” Pepper sighed. She took a sip of her tea and added, “Repeatedly.”

Tony just groaned and leaned forward until his cheek rested on the smooth surface of Pepper’s desk. He took a deep breath, let it out on a heavy sigh and watched as it caused a post-it note to flutter to the floor.

“I say we promote Happy. Make him go instead.”

“Happy’s already going as your security,” Pepper informed him.

“Iron Man doesn’t need a security detail.”

“He’s just there to keep an eye on things,” she explained, “make sure you don’t get into trouble, that you actually _go_ to the meetings, that kind of thing.”

Tony frowned. He lifted his head, then propped his chin on the desk instead. “That sounds like a baby-sitter.”

The corner of her mouth quirked to the side, but just barely. “If the shoe fits.”

“Iron Man doesn’t need a baby-sitter either.”

“No,” Pepper agreed. She dropped her pen, folded her hands, and leaned back in her chair. “But Tony Stark might.”

Tony rolled his eyes and sat up, doing his best not to look like the dramatic, slumped position had hurt his back. “I’ll have you know, that I have matured a lot in the last few years. I can honestly say I haven’t had any world altering fuck ups in…at least two years.”

Pepper narrowed her eyes. “What about the Queensboro bridge?”

“That wasn’t me. It was the kid. Technically, it was this pissed off furry in a Rhino costume, but still…not me. Also, the bridge is scheduled to be open again by the end of the month, so—”

“Tokyo.”

Tony stopped talking and frowned. “What about Tokyo?”

Pepper rolled her eyes and leaned forward, her arms coming to rest on the desk. “You were supposed to meet with the investors—“

“For the Minamiaiki Dam renovation.” Tony rubbed his forehead and winced. “Yeah, I dropped the ball on that one.”

“Because you were too busy worrying about the kid and what he’d get up to while you were gone.”

“He blew up a bridge, Pep.”

“I thought that was the Rhino?”

“Tomato, potato. You’re missing my point.”

“Which is?”

“He needs me.”

“I agree.” Pepper gave him an appraising look, before she reached forward and grabbed her tea again. “Except he doesn’t need you as much as you need him.”

“Excuse you?”

Pepper took a sip, shrugged, and said, “Admit it. Peter Parker has gotten really good at being a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and that kills you.”

“Does not.”

“Does to.”

“Does—”

“We were just talking about you being mature, weren’t we?”

Tony resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m helping him.”

“You are,” she agreed. “But sometimes you intervene when you don’t need to. He’s got it handled,” when Tony opened his mouth to argue, she raised her hand and added, “For the most part.”

And yeah, Tony couldn’t argue with that. He wanted to, but being mature and all…

“You need to realize that you have responsibilities outside of Iron Man and Spider-Man. Be a role model for the kid outside of the suit, too. Show him what it’s like to be a responsible adult and stop wreaking havoc with your new BFF.”

Tony felt his jaw quirk to the side in mild indignation. “Okay, the word you’re looking for is ‘mentoring’, and we have not been wreaking havoc.”

“The bridge, sweetie.”

“The Rhino, dear.”

Pepper smiled that familiar, trying-to-be-patient smile Tony knew and loved, before sighing. “Are you going to Texas or not?”

Tony sighed back. “I’m going to Texas.”

He slumped back in his seat, gave the swinging sticks sculpture sitting next to Pepper’s phone a little flick and watched the kinetic energy do its thing, before climbing to his feet and heading towards the door.

Before he could really think it through, he turned around and announced, “And I’m bringing the kid!”

Pepper paused, teacup halfway to her mouth, and frowned.

Tony just smiled, gave a ‘why not’ kind of shrug, and pointed out, “It’ll be a learning experience of the non-vigilante variety. And also, because he’s apparently my new BFF.”

Pepper just rolled her eyes and went back to work. “In that case, take Rhodey too. You both need a babysitter.”

A few texts and one phone call later, Tony found himself outside Midtown Tech. It was the middle of the day, so he didn’t have to bother with the line of soccer moms that were usually waiting outside. He left an unamused Happy in the car, straightened his tie, and jogged up the front steps.

The halls were empty, mostly. Tony asked a wide-eyed and slack jawed kid where the cafeteria was, translated the somewhat frightened mumble as “that way”, and took a left.

It was crowded, most of the kids too busy looking at their phones to pay attention to the chicken fingers in front of them, but a few did. They looked up with bored expressions that quickly turned to ones of disbelief before nudging the kid next to them, who was quick to repeat the pattern. Before long, the echoing cacophony dwindled down into hissed whispers and none-too-subtle _schlicks_ as those with phones tried taking a picture.

Tony suppressed a smirk, kept a straight face, and looked for that familiar mop of brown hair.

And there it was.

The kid was sitting at the back of the lunchroom, head lying on his folded arms, completely oblivious to Tony’s presence.

Ned noticed though, bless him. He was staring at Tony, mouth doing that little gaping fish thing it did in Tony’s presence. Tony quirked an eyebrow in greeting and actually grinned when Ned none-too-gently started frantically tapping Peter on the head.

Peter looked up with a scowl that quickly morphed into confusion as he finally took the time to notice the hushed whispers and blatant stares of his classmates. He followed Ned’s shocked gaze, and…

“What’s up, squirt?” Tony plopped down in the seat directly across from him.

While the other students looked surprised, some even excited, Peter looked terrified. He looked around at the gaping stares, all focused on him, and leaned in. “What are you doing here?"

"Chill, I called the principal before I came," Tony said. He reached forward and grabbed one of the chicken fingers off Ned's tray. "He said it was fine to visit during lunch."

Tony knew that wasn’t what the kid was worried about, and Peter’s expression pretty much confirmed it.

“Good to know,” Peter said. “But why are you visiting?”

“This ketchup?” Tony asked, pointing at a red glob next to Ned’s mashed potatoes.

“BBQ sauce,” Ned squeaked out.

“Even better.” Tony dipped the chicken, ignored Peter’s indignant and still somewhat panicked expression, took a bite and said, “Want to go to Texas?”

Peter frowned. “Right now?”

“Thursday.” Tony took another bite.

Peter looked around again. Kids were still staring. Rude.

“Is this a—why would we—what’s in Texas?”

“Cows…cowboys…oil refineries who are willing to discuss renewable energy and alternative avenues towards maintaining clean air qualities before they get spanked by the EPA. Also, maybe BBQ.”

Peter’s shoulders slumped and his eyebrows did that adorable little thing where they met in the middle all confused like. “This is for Stark Industries?”

Tony wiped the crumbs from his fingers, and tilted his head towards the hoard of eavesdroppers. “What else would it be for?”

Peter just shrugged and started playing with the cuff of his sleeves. “Don’t know. Just kinda confused why you’d want me to go to Texas.”

“You’re my personal intern,” Tony pointed out. “And Happy’s terrible at taking notes. He’s got the handwriting of a serial killer and the attention span of a squirrel.”

Peter frowned. “You said the same thing about me.”

“Yeah, but you’re a better speller, and besides, Happy’s gonna be on security duty.” Tony leaned forward, drummed his fingers on the table and asked, “So, you in?”

“I can’t just _go_ to Texas.”

“Why not?” Tony pointed a finger, cutting off whatever lame ass excuse the kid was about to give. “And don’t say homework. Michelle already said you don’t have any tests and you’re caught up on all of your assignments.”

The look of indignation on Peter’s face quickly morphed into one of terror. “You talk to MJ?”

Tony shrugged. “We chat.”

“That is so not cool.”

Tony disagreed. “So, you gonna play intern or not? Or am I going to have to go to the yeehaw state all on my lonesome and listen to boring meetings all weekend without my sidekick?”

“Sidekick,” Ned whispered. Loudly. “That’s so cool.”

“Just intern stuff?” Peter asked.

“Just intern stuff,” Tony promised, then more quietly, added, “The only suits we’ll be needing come with a tie. And auntie dearest already gave her blessing.”

Peter leaned back, and Tony was relieved to see something akin to excitement on his face. “I’ve never been to Texas.”

“Won’t be as exciting as Germany,” Tony warned. “But I’ll buy you a t-shirt, maybe hit up NASA before we leave.”

Peter smiled. “So, fieldtrip?”

“It’s called a road trip when you’re an adult, but yeah. Pack light, Happy’ll pick you up Thursday morning.”

Tony grabbed another chicken finger, gave both boys a parting wink, and walked out. He didn’t even bother to hide his smile as the noise level nearly boomed as he made his exit.

When he made it back to the car, he jumped in the driver seat, roused a sleeping Happy, and pulled out into midday traffic.

Happy groaned, rubbed tiredly at his eyes and asked, “He going?”

“He’s going.”

“Did it satisfy your daily dose of drama?” Happy asked. “Traumatizing the kid?”

Tony just laughed. “He looked like he might have pissed his pants a bit. But it’s good.” He turned onto 6th Avenue and headed north. “Let the little shits try and say the internship isn’t real now.”

Happy tightened his seatbelt. “It’s not.”

Tony glared. “Like hell. He’s about to intern it up in Texas.”

Happy just gave another world-weary sigh. “You’re a handful, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.”

Thursday morning arrived way sooner than Tony would have liked. And while he would have preferred to stay in New York, he was also ready to get the whole thing over with. He checked his phone, grabbed his bag, and was just about to go find Pepper to give her a kiss goodbye and remind her how much he didn’t want to go, when she came walking into the room.

“Have I mentioned how much I don’t want to go to Texas?” Tony asked.

“Only twice today,” she said, indulging him with a patient smile. “But it’s still early. You could probably get another one in before you leave, but just know, I still don’t care.”

Tony rolled his eyes and gave her a quick kiss. Before he could turn to go, however, Pepper held up her hand, and said, “Here.”

She was holding one of his ties, a blue one he hadn’t worn in a while because the suit it matched had gotten…singed. “Uh…,” he looked down at the tie he was wearing. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“This one’s for Peter,” she explained. When Tony just frowned some more, she said, “May called. Apparently, Peter lost the tie he wore to homecoming and the only other one he had got ruined when May tossed it in the washing machine. I said he could borrow one of yours.”

“Just gonna let the kid borrow a two hundred dollar tie?”

“Well, you let him run around in a multi-million dollar suit. I figured Armani was a step down.”

And people said Tony was a smart ass.

Tony narrowed his eyes and grabbed the tie, tucking it in his jacket pocket before he gave Pepper’s forehead one last kiss goodbye and turned to leave.

“Still don’t wanna go!” he called out.

“Still don’t care!” she called back.

And then he was gone.

Rhodey met him in the garage. He was dressed more comfortably, no suit or tie, just a leather jacket and a smirk. “Am I really just gonna play babysitter on this trip? Because I have better things I could be doing with my weekend.”

Tony returned the grin. “You’re not my babysitter.”

“Pepper says otherwise.”

“And I think we both know that if you didn’t really want to go, you would have told me to fuck off by now.”

Rhodey quirked his eyebrows and gave a defeated shrug. “Still, you’re buying me a steak when we get down there.”

“Deal.”

“I’m talking a Texas sized steak,” Rhodey informed him. “None of this petite filet mignon crap you tried to pass last time.”

“Okay, first off that was a Michelin Star ranked restaurant,” Tony said, tossing his bag into the trunk. “And secondly, that was all Pepper’s idea.”

“Sure it was.”

“Just get in the damn car.”

It was still dark out, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t traffic. Tony clenched his teeth and steered them towards the nearest coffee shop. He got him and Rhodey their usual, Happy an extra-large version of his as a bribe for having to get up extra early to go get the kid, and Peter a slightly smaller version of that caramel sugary monstrosity that promised to have him bouncing off the walls.

Even with the traffic and the quick detour for java, they made it to the air strip before Happy and Peter. There was a quick check in with security and then Tony pulled up to the private hanger. He handed Rhodey his cup of coffee to hold, placed his palm on the biometrics scanner, and waited for the large bay door to open.

He winced as the automatic lights switched on as he drove inside. He’d have to make an adjustment to the settings because _blinding white_ was way too bright for the ass crack of dawn.

It wasn’t long before Happy’s black car pulled in and a grumpy looking Happy climbed out.

Tony held up the large cup of coffee as a peace offering and asked, “He talk your ear off again?”

“Surprisingly, no,” Happy admitted. He took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of coffee and Tony saw something that might have been a smile peek out for just a moment. “Apparently, the kid is not a morning person.”

“A teenage boy not happy to wake up at five AM?” Tony asked, mockingly of course.

“So what’s up with the frowny face?” Rhodey asked.

Happy took a sip of coffee, then another, and answered, “Apparently, I’m not a morning person either.”

And wasn’t that the truth. The man usually made a face like a minotaur for the first half hour he was awake. There was still a little trace of that morning minotaur, but Happy cradled his coffee in one hand, his luggage in the other, and stomped away towards the jet.

The car door slammed shut and Tony looked up to see Peter slinging a bookbag over his shoulder as an old duffle bag hung by his side. He had a sports coat in his hand and was wearing an old, worn out hoodie, but Tony could see the edge of a collar peeking out, hinting the kid had a dress shirt on somewhere under the layers.

Unlike Happy, Peter didn’t look like your typical sullen-why the fuck am I awake- anti-morning person. He looked tired, but more in a worn out kind of way, not an it’s-too-early kind of way.

“D’you go patrolling last night?” Tony asked.

Peter looked up with a startled expression on his face, like he was surprised to be spoken to, and shook his head. “No.”

“You lying?”

“We both know you can check the suit’s log entries, so what would be the point of me lying?”

“Kid’s learning,” Rhodey whispered, and did Tony detect a hint of pride amongst that verbal betrayal?

But he was right. Peter was learning, and all good behavior deserved a reward.

Tony held up the last cup of coffee. “Caramel macchiato, no whipped cream, extra syrup.” 

Peter’s eyes immediately lit up as he reached for the offered cup. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

Tony frowned and retracted his hand, the coffee with it.

Peter made a face that was definitely a pout as his eyes tracked the retreating coffee. But then he noticed Tony’s disapproving frown, the way he had one eyebrow arched a little higher than the other expectantly. Peter rolled his eyes, and sighed. “Thanks, _Tony_ ,” he corrected.

Tony smiled, let Peter have his caffeine, and gave him a small, completely non-patronizing pat on the head.

Rhodey narrowed his eyes as he watched Peter turn towards the jet. “Are you using coffee as a positive reinforcement to train a child?”

“No,” Tony defended, but gave up when he noticed Rhodey’s disbelieving glare. “I’m using sugar,” he clarified. “Works with chocolates, donuts, pretty much any kind of candy. Kid’s partial to those little sour gummies. You know, the ones that’re shaped like worms?”

Rhodey just laughed, shook his head in a very disrespectful way, and turned to follow Peter onto the jet.

Tony made sure the car was locked and followed after. “Don’t judge me.”

“You’re bribing children with candy.”

“He’s sixteen, not six,” Tony pointed out. “And I’m tired of all this _Mr. Stark_ bullshit. We’ve known each other for two years.”

“And the kid looks up to you.”

“I know,” Tony said, tossing his bag over his shoulder as they approached the stairs, “But I feel like our relationship has progressed to the point where we’re on a first name basis.”

“His aunt know you’re bribing him with sugar?” Rhodey asked as he ducked his head and entered the cabin.

“She knows,” Peter answered. “She’s threatened to send him my dentist bills.”

“What have we said about eavesdropping?” Tony asked, frowning.

“That it’s not eavesdropping if you’re literally talking right in front of me?” Peter countered. He had the nerve to look Tony in the eye as he slurped his coffee monstrosity.

“Smart ass.”

Peter just smirked and fastened his seatbelt.

There was some more sass, mostly from Rhodey, some grumbling, mostly from Happy, and then they were ready for takeoff.

Once the jet leveled out, and the seatbelt sign dimmed, Peter reached for his bookbag and started pulling out notebooks and a textbook that looked like it was about to fall apart.

“What are you doing?”

Peter looked up, a pencil clenched between his teeth, as he frowned. “Homework?”

Tony frowned back. “MJ said you’d finished your homework.” Tony frowned harder. “Are you lying to Michelle Jones?”

The pencil fell and clattered against the worn textbook. “No,” Peter hurried to assure him. “It’s just…I mean, I get homework almost every day, you know? This is new homework.”

And okay, that made sense.

Tony took another sip of coffee and reached for his phone, wincing at the number of notifications that were waiting for him. “Women don’t like it when you lie to them.”

“I know.”

Tony looked up, made sure he met Peter’s eye. “And MJ is definitely a woman you shouldn’t lie to.”

“Oh, I know.” Peter’s expression did a good job of convincing Tony that the kid truly recognized the stupidity involved in lying to one Michelle Jones, so he let it go.

Peter went about doing his homework while Tony tried to answer a few emails and texts.

Rhodey played Candy Crush on his phone.

Happy snored.

It was maybe two hours later when Tony realized it was really quiet. It was officially the longest amount of time he’d gone in the kid’s company without Peter speaking, or chattering, or making any kind of noise.

Tony looked up from his phone.

Peter was passed out.

His head was cradled on his arms, homework forgotten.

“Why’re you making your worried face?” Rhodey asked, kicking a foot out to get Tony’s attention. Tony just nodded towards Peter.

“He’s asleep.”

“So?”

Tony finally stopped studying Peter, but only so he could level an unimpressed glare at Rhodey. “How long have you known the kid? You ever known him not to be asking a billion questions? We’re on a multi-million dollar jet that flies _itself_ , and he’s just asleep.”

Rhodey shrugged, but looked to Peter, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe we’ve finally reached the point where the kid’s not impressed with your flashy tech anymore.”

“He still gets excited over Legos, Rhodes. He’ll talk your ear off about video games if you let him. Are you aware that a new _Zelda_ is coming out this Fall?”

Rhodey quirked an eyebrow. “Is Zelda a Lego or a video game?”

“It’s a video game,” Tony answered. “And you’d know that if you spent any amount of time with the kid.” Tony looked back towards Peter and noticed that a little bit of drool had dribbled down towards the open notebook. “It’s weird when he’s quiet.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “You just bore easily.”

Tony ignored him and leaned across the aisle, reaching for Peter’s cup of coffee. It was still half full. “He didn’t even drink his coffee.”

“Which is probably why he’s tired,” Rhodey reasoned. He leaned back in his seat and put on a pair of headphones. “Let the boy sleep, Tony.”

Tony did. Not because he was told, but because Peter actually looked like he really needed the sleep.

And sleep he did. He slept through turbulence, through Happy’s ringtone sounding through the small cabin and disrupting Happy’s sleep. Kid even slept through Happy’s subsequent grumbling at said ringtone.

He did wake up though, sometime later when the drool apparently changed direction and threatened to drown him, because one moment Peter’s snoozing peacefully and the next he’s jerking back, coughing violently.

The coughing fit subsided and Peter blinked blearily around the cabin, one hand absently rubbing his chest and smoothing the hoodie flat.

Rhodey made a little, barely audible snort, then asked, “You awake there, Sleeping Beauty?”

Peter frowned, licked dry lips, then frowned some more. “Yeah, sorry.” He turned in his seat and looked around. “This thing have a bathroom?”

Tony pointed towards a small door at the rear of the cabin and watched in amusement as Peter sleepily rose to his feet and meandered towards the bathroom, yawning the entire way.

When Peter returned, he rubbed his eyes and gave his notebook a blank, blinky-eyed stare. Eventually, he shook his head, reached for the pencil that had fallen to the floor, and went back to doing his homework.

“You good, Pete?”

Peter looked up, once again surprised at being addressed, and gave a sleepy grin. “Yeah, sorry. Just tired. Not used to waking up that early.”

“That’s why I got you the coffee.”

Peter gave another sleepy grin, and then in a move that threatened to trigger Tony’s gag reflex, he picked up his forgotten and cold coffee and chugged it.

He made a face that hinted it was probably as gross as Tony expected, gave a small, almost imperceptible burp, and looked back at his physics book.

Maybe Tony was reading too much into it. FRIDAY hadn’t alerted him to anything the night before, and Peter was smart enough to know better than to stay out late when he had a five AM wakeup call, even if he _had_ gone patrolling.

He wasn’t hurt and it wasn’t like he could get sick, so what was there to worry about?

He was just tired.

No big deal.

Tony sighed, looked at his phone, realized he’d gotten another ten notifications since he’d looked away, and tossed it into the seat next to him.

He needed a vacation.

He wasn’t going to get one though, because a short time later, they began to make their descent.

It was still winter, but Texas wasn’t New York and for some godforsaken reason Tony felt like he’d just walked into a sauna as he stepped off the jet.

“Jesus,” Rhodey hissed, pulling off his jacket. “I forgot what humidity felt like.”

Happy loosened his tie and grimaced. “You couldn’t have had them come to New York?”

“You want to sell something, you go to the clients, Hap,” Tony reminded him.

“Did you even try?” Rhodey asked.

“Quit whining,” Tony ordered. “You’re setting a bad example for the youngling.”

Peter pulled off his hoodie, messing up his hair in the process, and squinted at the bright, Texas sun. “It’s February. Is it supposed to be this warm in February?”

“Take it up with Mother Nature,” Tony mumbled, glancing at his phone and frowning. They weren’t exactly running late, not yet anyway. But if they went to the hotel before heading to the office…

“New plan,” Tony decided. He slung his bag over his shoulder, adjusted his sunglasses, and looked for the rental car that had been promised to be waiting for him. “Meetings first, hotel later.”

He looked at Happy’s sleep rumpled jacket and Peter’s messy hair. “You can freshen up at the office. Pretty sure they’ll have a bathroom.”

Peter gave his hair a self-conscious tug and tried to smooth the curls back into place.

It took a little longer than Tony would have liked to find the car, but pretty soon they had it loaded, the air conditioner turned up, and the GPS on. Rhodey had called shotgun and Tony was driving, so that put Peter and Happy in the backseat.

Something neither of them seemed excited about, but both were smart enough not to voice.

It turned out that Houston traffic sucked ass as much as Manhattan traffic, only worse because the speed limit was way higher and people didn’t know how to fucking drive, something that was quickly realized shortly after leaving the airport.

“Are you actually going the speed limit?” Rhodey asked after the third car had sped around them.

“May threatened to castrate him if he got in an accident,” Peter unnecessarily explained.

“And Pepper backed her up,” Happy added. Also unnecessary.

Tony just narrowed his eyes and pressed the accelerator.

The building they were meeting at was nice, not Stark Tower nice, but you know, nice. They checked in at the front desk, were led through a maze of escalators and elevators and never ending turns before they were brought to a massive conference room with a large view of the city below.

“Just make yourselves at home, and I’ll let them know you’re here,” announced their tiny and clearly nervous tour guide. “Is there anything I can get you, Mr. Stark?”

Tony gave his motley crew another look over, figured Happy looked fine but couldn’t really get past the sleep rumpled hair or slightly oversized jacket Peter had on. He politely turned to the wide-eyed assistant, and asked, “Do you have a bathroom?”

She did. Go figure.

“Alright, you know how to tie one of these things?” Tony asked, pulling the carefully rolled tie out of his pocket and letting it cascade open.

Peter stopped trying to wet his hair down and looked up from the sink with a frown. “Maybe?”

“That wasn’t really one of the options,” Tony said. “I was sorta looking for a yes or a no.”

“Yes,” Peter corrected, though without any of the confidence Tony would have preferred.

He tossed Peter the tie and turned to the mirror. Hair was fine, glasses were clean, suit wasn’t wrinkled. Time to intimidate some deep pocketed oil executives into saving Mother Nature.

Or almost time. Peter was still struggling with his tie.

“You need help?”

“Nope.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

Tony waited patiently for Peter to finish the tie, and hey look, he actually got it. Tony reached forward, fixed the collar, straightened the knot, and ask, “You ready?”

“Yeah.” Peter smiled, one of the first genuine smiles he’d offered since New York. “I mean, I’m just taking notes, right?”

“Nah, FRIDAY will take notes. You’re gonna sit back and pay attention. Try to learn something.”

Peter frowned, his face doing that thing it did when he was confused. “About clean energy?”

“About forming business deals,” Tony corrected. “Spider-Man isn’t gonna pay the bills, Parker. And we both know you’re smart enough to be running your own show one day.”

“Is that why you wanted me here?” Peter asked, another smile creeping in. “To teach me how to be a businessman?”

Tony turned back to the mirror, fixed his own tie and straightened his jacket. “Apparently, Pepper thinks I should expand my mentoring duties outside the realm of crime fighting,” he said, rolling his eyes and making sure Peter saw. “Besides, the best way to make sure you stay out of trouble is to keep you within arm’s reach. And maybe giving you an idea of what to expect when you’re all grown up doesn’t hurt either.”

Peter shifted his shoulders and tried to make the jacket fit better. It didn’t. “I’m pretty sure my version of adulting won’t include private jets and last minute, cross country business deals.”

Tony shrugged and reached for the bathroom door. “You never know,” he said, holding the door open. “I can see a thirty-year old version of Peter Parker dominating the tech world.”

“With my luck, that’ll probably translate to selling refurbished iPods at the Queens’ BestBuy.”

“You keep skipping school and putting off the SATs, sure,” Tony warned. “But you get your shit together, I can see Parker Industries being a thing.”

“Parker Industries?” Peter asked. Another smile.

“I’ll have long since retired by then,” Tony said with a wink. “So no competition.”

Peter just laughed, and followed Tony through the maze of halls back towards the conference room.

Happy was waiting outside, forehead wrinkled as he stared at his phone.

“Where’s Rhodey?”

“He went ahead to the hotel to take a nap,” Happy informed them, still frowning at his phone. “Said you couldn’t bribe him to sit through these meetings. And that you still owe him a steak regardless.”

“Traitor,” Tony mumbled, then pointed at the door. “They ready?”

Happy put his phone away, and nodded. “I’d say it’s split about sixty-forty in your favor,” he said, lowering his voice. “Most of them seem excited to hear what you have to offer, the others look worried you’re just here to try and hurt their profits.”

Tony rolled his eyes and adjusted his watch. “I’m here to try and make sure there’s still an Earth around to profit from.” He took a deep breath, put on a polite smile, and opened the door.

Happy pretty much called it, because from the moment Tony opened the door until the time the nervous assistant politely barged in a few hours later to announce lunch had arrived, Tony could easily tell who was with him and who wasn’t.

There were sixteen men in all, one woman, and they all kept alternating between looking excited at the fact that Iron Man was standing right in front of them to slightly offended that he was telling them they were contributing to a global crisis.

But then again, they knew that already.

It was the ones who kept glancing at their phones, who leaned back and studied Tony with a tilted head and shrewd eyes that hinted Tony was going to have to try harder to win them over.

But the caterer had arrived, so he’d have to try after lunch.

“So, how d’you think it’s going?” Tony whispered to Peter as they waited for the caterer’s to set out the food.

“I think you’re doing great,” Peter answered, all honest enthusiasm. Bless him.

Tony smirked. “I’m not talking about me,” he said. He nodded towards two of the CEOs talking over a falafel tray. “I’m talking about them. Give me your opinion. Pretend you’re the one giving the presentation, do you think I’m winning them over?”

Peter looked down at his empty plate and bit the inside of check. Thinking face.

“I think a few of them are game,” he said. He looked up, the bridge of his nose wrinkling as he admitted, “But there’s a few that aren’t buying it.”

Tony smiled. The kid _was_ learning. “Which ones?”

Peter looked back down at his plate, then up through his lashes at the wall of men. “Mr. Blue Suit and Bolo tie is a definite ‘no’. The guy with the mustache is probably right there with him.”

Tony wiped his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. “Yeah, they’ve been giving me the stink eye ever since we arrived.” He grabbed one of the plates and got in line behind Peter. “What should I do?”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “What?” he squeaked.

Tony made a shushing gesture and repeated, “What should I do? How would you convince them?”

“Is this hypothetical?”

“Yes,” Tony admitted. “But let me mentor and pretend it isn’t. If you were me, how would you convince Bolo tie that his company needed to invest in our technology?”

“Money,” Peter blurted out. “He’s worried your new tech is going to affect his profit margins. Prove him wrong.”

Tony didn’t bother hiding his smile then. He just gave Peter’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze and pushed him towards the buffet table. “I’m telling you, kid. Parker Industries.”

Lunch was good, even if it made him want to murder his mentee.

Yeah, the boy was genius level intelligent, but that just meant that Peter Parker put the smart in smartass.

Sometime between lunch being served and Peter spilling Dr. Pepper on his two hundred dollar borrowed tie, one of the friendlier CEOs decided to include Peter in the conversation. Tony didn’t know if it was because the man was nosey and figured the best way to learn what’s what was to ask the corporate underlings, or if the kid just looked so pathetic sitting there quietly picking apart his seasoned lamb, but somehow, Peter was suddenly part of the conversation.

“So Stark, this is your intern you said?” the man asked, nodding towards Peter as he pushed his seasoned vegetables to the edge of the plate. “Bit young isn’t he?”

Tony couldn’t really argue. “Don’t let the baby fat full you. Kid’s a certifiable genius.”

The man nodded appreciatively. “Didn’t expect you to hire an idiot.” The man took a few bites of food, wiped his mouth and then turned his attention to Peter. “So what exactly is it you do for Stark Industries?”

“Mostly just paperwork, filing, that kind of thing,” Peter said. He gave a small, self-conscious shrug and added, “Every now and then Mr. Stark will let me do some work in the lab, help upgrade old tech designs and software—,” which was true if you counted web-shooters and suit specifications, “—but mostly, I do web design.”

Oh, that little shit.

Somehow the kid had managed to get through all of that with a straight face, which was more than Happy could say. The man was currently in the corner coughing up tzatziki sauce he had unintentionally snorted.

Tony ignored him and gave Peter’s leg a sharp kick under the table.

Peter just continued to smile politely, and went on to answer the man’s question about school.

Smart ass.

Tony stabbed a tomato with his fork and popped it in his mouth. He met Peter’s eye, gave a look he hoped translated to “behave” and played along with the small talk until the plates were cleared and the presentation was back on the screen.

And then Tony went back to work trying to explain why he was there.

Which went something like “Hey, if you want to continue to exploit the earth of its natural resources, you need to work a little harder on ensuring there’s an earth left for you to exploit.” He also added in something along the lines of “It’s not the 1950s anymore. People are paying attention and Twitter’s a thing, so unless you greedy fuckers want to be hashtag cancelled, you need to listen to me.”

He didn’t use those words exactly, but the sentiment was still there.

It didn’t hurt that the EPA had been breathing down their necks for the better part of a year, so unless they wanted to be hit with major fines and get all of the wrong kinds of publicity, they needed to play along.

“It sounds to me, Stark, like you’re putting us in a position where we _can’t_ say no,” grumbled one of the older men with deep sunk eyes and age spots that were probably older than Peter.

Tony was about to tell the man why he was wrong, but the kid beat him to it.

“You can say ‘no’,” Peter blurted out, freezing as soon as he said it. Tony gave him an encouraging nod and waited. Peter didn’t disappoint. “The new filtration system _is_ pricey, but it works. It’s also the only one of its kind.”

Peter looked to Tony again, silently asking for permission to continue. Tony just leaned back in his chair and gave Peter a _please go on_ kind of gesture.

_The floor’s all yours, Parker._

Peter gave a nervous little wiggle, cleared his throat, and then said, “The fact is, Mr. Boyd, your companies have to do something or you’re going to be shut down. Odds are that there’ll be other systems that are cheaper somewhere down the road, but that’s probably years away and Stark Industries has one right now, ready to go. So it just seems kind of stupid to wait for something cheaper.” He did that wide-eyed, panicked thing, then hurriedly added, “No offense.”

The executives all looked at each other, their expressions varying.

Peter cleared his throat again, looked down at the notepad he’d been scribbling on for the past hour and quietly added, “Besides, my uncle always said you get what you pay for.”

The man who had chatted with Peter during lunch, grinned. “Smart man.”

Peter gave a soft smile. “Yeah, he was.”

Tony looked around to find Happy sitting in the corner, phone in his lap, an impressed smirk on his face.

Something that was either indigestion or pride welled up in Tony’s chest and he leaned forward, hands coming together in a loud and sudden clap. “Well, there you go. I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

And he couldn’t have. At least not in a way that was in any way effective. Yeah, Peter was smart, but he was also charismatic in a way Tony had never quite gotten the hang of.

Tony might have charisma, but the kid was adorable in that puppy dog kind of way where he could be an asshole and people would still go “awwww.”

If Tony did it, well, he just got called an asshole.

But adorably blunt or whatever you wanted to call it, it seemed to work, because Mr. Bolo tie leaned back, and leveled a scrutinizing eye at Tony and asked, “Suppose we agree with Junior there, what would be the next steps? What timeline are we looking at?”

And now they were talking.

Tony skipped ahead in the presentation, skimming the legal mumbo jumbo, and got to the good stuff. He was just about to explain the transitioning phase when Peter cleared his throat again.

Tony paused, thinking Peter had something else he wanted to add, but the kid just shook his head, buried his face in the crook of his arm, and gave another cough.

“Sorry,” he apologized, coughing some more. “There’s just a…tickle.”

Someone handed him a bottle of water and the meeting continued.

But so did Peter’s coughing.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again, this time standing up and pointing towards the door. “I’m just gonna…” and he let himself out.

Tony gave Happy a none-too-subtle glare until he followed the kid, and then went back to the presentation.

It was a few minutes later when Happy returned, notably alone.

Tony arched a brow.

Happy gave him a _don’t worry about it_ kind of shrug.

Tony frowned, but continued explaining how the new filters would need to be custom made for each refinery’s needs.

After ten minutes and still no Peter, Tony sent a quick text.

_You okay?_

Someone had just asked how often the filters would have to be changed out when Peter texted back.

_Sorry. My throats just itchy._

Tony rolled his eyes, explained that the filters were designed to last at least through six months of normal processes and texted back.

_Not what I asked…_

“Basically, these systems run themselves and require minimal upkeep,” Tony explained, just as his phone vibrated again.

_I’m fine. The lady at front desk gave me some peppermints to help._

And okay, great. Kid was taking candy from strangers.

But whatever.

Tony sat his phone on the table, and resumed answering the bajillion questions the men (and woman) before him seemed to have, each and every one of them somehow tied to “how much is this gonna cost” before the sun got low enough in the sky that they could all smile, shake hands, and call it a day.

“Have your people call my people,” Tony said. “We’ll let the lawyers to their thing and then we’ll have everything ready to go before the beginning of summer.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, Stark,” they lied.

And then they were gone.

“Where’s the kid?” Tony asked the second they were alone.

“Relax, he’s fine,” Happy assured him. “The secretary sequestered him away in an empty office. Doubt he’ll get into trouble there.”

Tony was almost certain Peter Parker could find a way to get into trouble in an empty room, but he didn’t feel like arguing.

Besides, the kid could look after himself. Mostly. He didn’t need an actual babysitter, no matter how much Tony liked to joke.

He followed Happy through the winding halls to a little office wedged between the elevators and a supply closet and knocked rhythmically on the door.

He opened it to find Peter blinking at him blearily, having obviously just woken up. There was a partially demolished pile of peppermints and wrappers in front of him. Two empty bottles of water, and a pretty impressive imprint of his sleeve on his cheek.

“Up and at ‘em, sunshine,” Tony greeted, stepping forward and stealing one of the leftover peppermints. “Time to blow this joint.”

Peter yawned, stretched until his back popped, and frowned. “What time is it?”

“Dinner time,” Tony answered. “And I owe Rhodey a steak. Let’s go.”

They had to wait for an Uber because James Rhodes might be loyal to his country but he’s not to his friends.

Sometimes.

Once they arrived and checked in and hopped in an elevator. Tony looked at his watch, debated internally, then announced, “Alright, it’s early enough that you can probably freshen up if you need to. Meet downstairs in half an hour?”

They agreed and stepped off the elevator as it opened.

The hotel was one of the older ones in the city, but it’d just been remodeled after one of the latest hurricanes, and it showed.

It was nice and roomy with wide hallways and soft carpets, but it also wasn’t as soundproof as Tony was accustomed to. He could hear televisions and water running as he walked down the hall towards their rooms. It was nice, but definitely not the Bulgari.

Peter apparently disagreed.

“This place is awesome,” his whispered in wonder, eyes taking in the light fixtures and art work as they passed. “Way nicer than the one we stayed at in Washington.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, this is a step up from Motel Six.”

“It was the Embassy Suites,” Peter corrected, either missing the sarcasm or simply not caring. “Are the rooms gonna be as big as the ones in Germany?”

“Don’t know,” Tony admitted. FRIDAY had booked the rooms, so he was gonna be just as surprised as the others. “And speaking of Germany,” Tony began, handing Peter his keycard and making sure the kid was looking him in the eye, “No movies unless they’re PG-13 or under.”

Peter frowned in confusion but it didn’t take long to catch on because the confusion morphed to shock, then mortification, then betrayal as he turned and looked at Happy.

Happy just shrugged. “I didn’t tell him.”

He totally did, but Tony wasn’t gonna rat him out. “That room was on my credit card, Parker. He didn’t have to tell me.”

Peter took a deep breath and calmly put the keycard into the slot. “Well, I’m gonna go in my nice fancy room and die now. Thanks.”

Tony did Peter a favor and waited until the door closed before laughing.

It turned out that yes, the rooms were just as big as the ones in Germany. Sort of. The bathroom only had a walk-in shower, no tub and the mini-bar left a bit to be desired, but it was definitely cozy in that expensive kind of way.

It didn’t take long for Tony to realize he was right about the noise too, because no sooner had he removed his jacket and tie did he hear the sound of muffled coughing drifting through the wall.

Tony washed his face, changed into a fresh shirt, sighed tiredly at his reflection and fell back onto the large king-sized bed.

Fuck, he was tired.

Less in the sleepy kind of way and more in the he desperately needed a vacation kind of way. He took a few minutes and then a few more to enjoy the way the comfy bed relieved the stress in his back, gave in to a jaw cracking yawn and forced himself up to find a clean jacket for dinner.

By the time the half past mark hit, Tony felt like he could reasonably pass as a functioning human being. He grabbed his phone and keys and made his way out into the hallway.

Rhodey and Happy were already there, but Peter was still MIA.

Tony knocked on the door, waited, and then knocked again. “You alive in there?” he asked.

The answer was yes, because Tony heard another cough, this one sounding decidedly more… _wet_ than the others.

Tony shared a frown with Happy and then stepped back as Peter opened the door and fell out into the hallway in all his excited glory.

His hair was tamer than it had been earlier, and the sleep lines were gone from his face, but the kid looked pale and he was in that ratty old hoodie again despite the fact that they were still in Texas and it was still hot.

Tony must have been making a judgey kind of face, because Peter frowned and looked down at himself. “Are we going somewhere fancy? Do I need to change?”

“No, you’re good,” Tony assured him, but then narrowed his eyes as Peter stifled another cough.

“Are you getting sick?” Rhodey asked. And that was a good question, because the dark blue of the hoodie was matching the dark circles that had seemed to pop up under Peter’s eyes. Were those there before?

“No, I’m fine,” Peter promised, offering a little smile. “It’s just a little tickle.”

“How long have you had this tickle?” Rhodey asked, narrowing his eyes much like Tony had.

Peter shrugged, then admitted, “A few days.”

Okay, what the fuck?

“Are you getting sick?” Tony asked, albeit a little more indignantly than Rhodey had. “Can you get sick?”

“Uh…” The bridge of Peter’s nose wrinkled, because apparently he had to think about it.

Tony reached forward and put his hand on the kid’s forehead. “You’ve got a fever. You’re sick. Since when do you get sick?”

“Has he never been sick before?” Rhodey asked.

“Not since he went all itsy bitsy,” Tony answered. He dropped his hand and asked Peter, “Why didn’t you tell me you were getting sick?”

“I didn’t know I could.” And damn if the kid didn’t look sincere. And maybe a little concerned.

“Well, now we know,” Tony said, making a mental note to add that to Peter’s ever growing file and ask Bruce about it. “Come on, we’ll buy you some baby asprin on the way.”

That was a joke of course. Sort of. They did get him something for the fever though, crossed their fingers it would actually work on spider-mutated DNA and headed to the steakhouse.

“This is what I’m talking about,” Rhodey beamed as he looked at the large steak before him. “Worth the trip.”

“They have steaks in New York,” Happy pointed out, but then he took a bite of his food, closed his eyes and made an indecent moan. “Oh god, this is good.”

“Not in front of the kid, Hap,” Tony joked. Not that it mattered, because said kid was frowning at this plate. “You gonna eat?”

Peter stopped poking his cheesy potatoes and looked up. “What?”

“Food’s already dead, you don’t have to stab it,” Tony pointed out. He tried to remember whether or not Peter had eaten anything at lunch or if he had just played with his food then too.

Peter sat up a little straighter and shoveled a forkful of potatoes into his mouth.

“They have soup,” Happy announced. “If you feel like you’d prefer something a little lighter.”

And okay, why didn’t Tony think of that. He was just about to raise his hand to signal the waiter, when Peter spoke up.

“Nah, this is good,” he said, taking another bite. “I’m just tired.”

Tony put down his knife and leveled Peter with a discerning, threatening, you better tell the truth kind of glare. “Scale it for me, how bad are you feeling?”

“Well, I’m not dying,” Peter informed him around a mouthful of chicken. “If that makes you feel better.”

It did, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that the kid had been feeling sick for a few days now and Tony hadn’t remotely noticed.

Sure, he noticed something was off with Peter…he just hadn’t thought ‘sick’ until an hour ago.

“We’ll swing by the med-bay when we get back to New York,” Tony decided. “Just in case.”

Peter shrugged, ate the last bite of cheesy potatoes, and said, “It’s probably just a cold.”

Tony agreed, but still…

“We might have to skip out on NASA,” Tony thought aloud.

Peter started coughing again, but Tony was pretty sure it had more to do with the spuds he’d just inhaled in indignation than with any germs. Peter took a sip of water, wiped his mouth, and then glared at Tony in a betrayed and somewhat pleading kind of way. “Dude.”

“Don’t ‘dude’ me,” Tony countered. “You’re probably three kinds of contagious.”

“I will hold my breath—“

“Completely unrealistic.”

“Mr. Stark— _Tony_ , please. I’m begging you.”

Tony glared. “Now you call me Tony.”

“Please,” Peter whispered. And damn it, the kid had clasped his hands together and was going full on kicked-puppy mode.

Tony dropped his fork and looked to Rhodey and Happy for backup.

He didn’t find it.

Rhodey just silently laughed as he continued to cut into his steak. Happy stared back, giving Tony a _see what I have to put up with_ kind of look, clearly completely unimpressed.

Fuck.

“Fine,” Tony said, “But only if your fever’s down and you feel better,” he quickly added as Peter began to celebrate.

That sounded good, right? Was that how you parent?

Fuck.

Tony was officially out of his comfort zone and he knew it. He needed an expert.

He waited until they got back to their hotel rooms before he pulled out his phone and dialed number three on his speed dial.

“I’m going to do you a favor and assume you’re calling just to say hi, and not because of any life threatening, super hero catastrophy,” greeted the friendly voice on the other end of the line.

Tony smiled, tossed his keys on the nightstand and plopped down on the foot of the bed. “Gotta say, May, you sound fairly relaxed for someone expecting tragedy.”

“I might have google set up to alert me to any breaking news out of Houston,” she admitted. “But seriously, Stark. Why are you calling?”

Tony took a deep breath and said, “So, hypothetically speaking, say Peter was sick…at what point would you take him to the doctor?”

There was a moment’s silence and then, “I didn’t think he could get sick anymore?”

“Kid’s a walking petri dish, May,” Tony informed her. He paused to see if he could hear Peter coughing through the walls. He couldn’t. Good. “Pretty sure we just contaminated all of downtown Houston.”

“What kind of sick?” May asked.

Tony shrugged. “Sniffling, sneezing, coughing, fever…the full Nyquil skit. Kid sounds like he’s trying to expel a lung.”

May sighed. “He used to get sick a lot before the whole Spider-Man thing. Couldn’t go a month without him catching _something_.” She paused, and Tony paused with her, giving her time to think and tell him what the fuck to do. “But I mean, he doesn’t have asthma anymore, so it shouldn’t be too bad, right? Not like before?”

And how the fuck was Tony supposed to know. “May, that’s why I’m calling you. I just need to know if it’s worth risking a clinic or not.”

Another pause and then, “If it’s just a cold, then no,” she said, and that was exactly what Tony wanted to hear. “His asthma’s gone, so it shouldn’t be a problem, just…just watch him. If it gets worse, then definitely a doctor, but if it’s just a cold…just watch him.”

And _that_ Tony could do.

He showered, answered a few emails, called Pepper, and then leaned against the headboard so he could watch a little TV.

He flipped through the channels, lingered on one of those cooking competitions where people raced against the clock and ended up watching an entire episode before the muffled sound of coughing returned.

Tony turned up the volume, felt guilty, then turned it back down.

He flexed his foot a few times, his toes quietly bouncing on air, before he tossed the remote aside and slipped into the hall.

_Knock, knock, knock-knock._

“Hey, Pete. You doing okay?”

Silence, and then more coughing, and something that sounded depressingly like gagging.

Tony didn’t try knocking again. He marched back to his room, grabbed the spare key card the front desk had given him, and power walked back outside.

Happy was standing in his doorway, a concern frown on his face. “He okay?”

“Don’t know.” Tony slid the card in the slot and pushed the door open. “Peter?”

Peter didn’t answer, but Tony figured he could just follow the sound of gagging. And he was right. Peter was kneeling in front of the toilet. Well, slumped in front of it. From where Tony was standing it looked more like Peter was using the toilet as a prop to keep from face planting the floor as he coughed and gagged.

“Kid, you okay?” Tony asked, and yes, he was aware that was a dumb fucking question. “Look at me, Peter.”

Peter shook his head and gagged some more and then did something Tony really wished he wouldn’t have.

He started gasping.

It wasn’t super dramatic but it still scared the fuck out of Tony.

It apparently scared the fuck out of Peter too because he looked up at Tony with large, panicked eyes.

“Hey, hey, look at me, you’re fine,” Tony said, dropping to his knees and grabbing Peter’s shoulders. “You’re fine, just one deep breath, come on.”

Peter shook his head again and reached up, grabbing onto Tony’s wrist, and holy shit was the kid burning up.

“One big breath, Pete, come on,” Tony begged, trying really hard and failing not to show the panic he was feeling.

Peter gagged, coughed again and spit up something miraculously disgusting. But Tony didn’t mind, because the kid was breathing again.

“I’ll get the car.”

Tony jumped, surprised to hear Happy’s voice but so fucking glad at the same time.

Tony really loved the man.

“Where’s Rhodey?” Tony asked. He pushed Peter’s hair back so he could feel if the fever felt worse.

It did.

“Right here, Tones,” Rhodey announced. He stepped into the bathroom, frowning. “What do you need?”

“Stay with him,” Tony ordered. He climbed to his feet, reminded himself not to panic, everything was going to be fine, and then said, “Just watch him. I’ve got to get dressed.”

Tony sort of moved on autopilot after that. He figured a pair of sweat pants and t-shirt were fine, but he definitely needed shoes.

Maybe socks?

Where were they?

Fuck it. Forget the socks.

Phone, wallet, keys?

Happy had the keys. Okay, all he needed was the kid and they’d be good to go.

Tony wandered back into Peter’s room to find him sitting on the edge of the bed while Rhodey handed him his shoes.

“I’m fine,” Peter lied. Because he was a liar. That was a lie. Tony told him so.

Peter didn’t argue again.

Tony sent a quick text to May, figured she’d want to know, then looked up. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, coughing again and wincing. “Maybe it’s just a really, really bad cold.”

Tony didn’t bother responding.

Happy was waiting for them in the lobby, the car right outside. “Do you need me to come with you?” he asked.

“Nah, we got it,” Tony said. “Get some sleep. We’re leaving first thing in the morning.”

“No NASA?” Peter asked, his voice decidedly very croaky.

Tony stopped walking so he could look him in the eye. “Do you remember five minutes ago when you couldn’t breathe because you were choking on your own snot?”

“Gross, Tony,” Happy mumbled.

They both ignored him.

“Come on, Peter,” Tony ordered, grabbing his shoulder and steering him towards the front doors. “I promise I will bring you to NASA one day. Hell, you can get your whole little nerd herd together and we’ll make it a group trip.”

“Promise?” Peter asked.

“Pinky promise.”

FRIDAY navigated them towards the nearest 24 hour clinic. Tony parked the car, double checked that it was locked, and led the kid into the crowded waiting room.

There was a little sign at the receptionist’s desk that said “For your safety and ours, please take a mask if you think you might have the flu.”

“You get a flu shot?” Tony asked

“Didn’t think I needed one,” Peter answered.

Tony grabbed the kid a mask, saw one of the nurses looking at him with wide-eyes and grabbed one for himself while he was at it.

He ordered Peter to go sit down, signed them in, and accepted the clipboard the receptionist offered him.

“Alright, name,” he said, squinting at the little writing. “Peter Benjamin Parker. Birthdate, August tenth…”

“I can fill it out,” Peter offered, reaching for the pen.

Tony just pulled it out of reach. “Social security number. Best not say that out loud.”

“You know my social?” Peter asked.

Tony ignored him and jotted down Peter’s height and weight, or at least, what they were the last time the kid had been checked out in the med-bay. “I’m putting your address on here, but if they send you a bill, you tell May to give it to me, got it?”

“Got it,” Peter said, for once not arguing. He sat quietly as Tony finished filling out the forms, the occasional cough breaking through. When Tony returned from turning in the forms, Peter crossed his arms, sighed, and admitted, “I forgot what it was like to be sick.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” Tony said. “Hopefully, they’ll give you a shot or something and you’ll be good as new soon enough.”

“I honestly didn’t think I could get sick anymore,” Peter mumbled. “Haven’t been sick once since the…” he looked around and lowered his voice, “you know.”

Tony did know, because he’d been thinking the same thing. But based on the pale skin and flushed cheeks, Peter obviously could still get sick. Very much so. “It just means you’re still human.”

Peter snorted, coughed, then leaned his head back against the wall as he stared up at the fluorescent lights. “That’s good to know.”

It took almost two hours before they were called back and huddled into a little exam room. A nurse came in, stuck a swab up the kid’s nose, and then left.

And then there was more waiting, more coughing on Peter’s part, and internal reminders to be patient on Tony’s.

Eventually, a doctor came back, and he was wearing a mask too. “You got the flu, kid,” the doctor said. “Which is good news, bad news.” He dropped the chart on the counter and reached for a prescription pad. “Good news is you get to play hooky from school for a few days, bad news is you’re gonna feel like crap doing it.”

The flu. Great.

Tony accidently groaned out loud and the doctor just looked at him. “You the father?”

“Temporary guardian.”

“You get a flu shot?”

“Yep.”

“I’m going to write you both a prescription for Tamiflu anyway,” he said, grabbing the stethoscope and listening to Peter’s lungs. “You been having trouble breathing?”

“Yes,” Tony answered for him.

The doctor nodded, like he’d expected as much. “I’m also going to give you something for the cough, it’ll help break up the mucus, but honestly the best thing for you will be to just rest.”

So much for a quick fix.

Tony thanked the doctor, grabbed Peter by the elbow and steered him towards the car. “So you’re not dying,” he said, hoping it was true. “That’s good to know.”

“Not a cold though.”

“Nope.”

They spent another hour waiting on the prescriptions then meandered their way back to the hotel. It was nearly midnight when they arrived.

Rhodey was still awake, and apparently waiting, because as soon as they made it to Peter’s door, Rhodey stepped out into the hall and asked, “What’s the verdict.”

“Flu,” Tony answered.

Rhodey winced in sympathy. “Super contagious. Great.”

“Sorry,” Peter apologized, but Rhodey just waved it off.

“Not your fault,” he said. “Let’s just hope Happy got a flu shot.”

Tony pushed Peter into his room, mumbled a quick “keep the door open” before rushing to his room to grab his laptop.

When he went back to Peter’s room it was to find him pulling his hoodie off and physically crawling into bed.

The kid groaned as he buried himself beneath his covers.

“This sucks.”

“Sure does,” Tony agreed. He sat his laptop on the room’s desk. When he looked up, it was to find Peter frowning at him from beneath the covers. “What?”

“You’re just gonna stay here?”

“You gonna choke on your own snot again?”

“It’s called phlegm, and I wasn’t planning on it.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Tony promised, and went back to his computer.

It was silent for a few moments, then Peter coughed, sighed, and got out of bed. Tony was about to ask where he was going, but the kid just pulled a laptop and a tangled pair of headphones out of his book bag and climbed back into bed.

Tony figured it still counted as resting since the kid was horizontal, so he went back to work emailing the lawyers, updating them on the day’s meeting and how many executives they could expect to hear from.

He’d answered a few of the important emails, deleted the ones that weren’t urgent and had just opened an old file of outdated suit designs he hadn’t looked at in forever when the sound of laughing and music filled the air.

Tony looked up to find Peter fast asleep, mouth opened wide as he tried to breathe through the congestion, the laptop resting by his side playing an episode of whatever show the kid was currently obsessed with.

Tony got up, smiled when he realized it was a cartoon, and closed the computer. He was just about to go back to his desk when Peter gasped and woke up to another glorious coughing fit.

When he started to gag again, Tony reached for the trash bin and shoved it under Peter’s chin.

Without thinking, Tony reached up and gave Peter’s back two hard thumps with the heel of his hand, but paused before he could get the third.

He had a strange sense of déjà vu that quickly morphed into a sense of nostalgia before settling as a very distinct Emotion at the base of his throat.

He was pretty sure he’d lived this scenario before. A lifetime ago when he was young and Jarvis was there to make sure he didn’t choke on his snot.

Phlegm.

Whatever.

Peter coughed again, spit into the trash bin, and groaned. “This is disgusting.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Tony announced, still half lost in the memory. “Get your pillow.”

“What?” Peter asked, but Tony had already gotten up and was heading to the bathroom. He turned on the shower, blasted the hot water, and stepped back into the main room.

“Get _all_ the pillows,” he amended, grabbing the comforter and pulling. “Come on.”

Peter frowned, but did as he was told. Tony tossed the large comforter on the tiled floor then went to the cupboard next to the TV where they kept the complimentary robes, and _just maybe_ …yep, an extra blanket. The thick and heavy kind. Perfect.

“Come on Typhoid Mary,” Tony said, urging Peter into the bathroom. “We’re building a fort.”

Peter was still frowning, but he dutifully shuffled into the bathroom, a hoard of pillows in his arms.

Tony spread the heavier blanket out on the floor and gestured for Peter to sit down.

“On the bathroom floor?”

“Trust me, kid.”

Peter dropped the pillows, then looked at the shower and the still running water. Then he smiled.

“We’re gonna smoke the phlegm out.”

“More like _steam_ it out,” Tony corrected, mirroring the smile, “But yeah, you get the idea.”

“That’s what Ben used to call it,” Peter explained, still staring at the running water as Tony arranged the pillows. “I used to have asthma, and they’d—” He coughed, rubbed his chest, “—Ben and May used to take turns with me sitting in the bathroom ‘smoking the gunk out’.”

Tony looked up to see Peter caught in his own memory.

“Come on, kid,” he said, tossing Peter the last pillow and pointing to the little nest. “Lay down, and save room for me.”

Tony left, grabbed _his_ laptop because he doubted Peter’s would play nice with the moisture, and went back to the bathroom. Peter was laying amongst the pillows, swallowed by the fluffy blanket, watching Tony with an amused sort of expression.

“I’m pretty sure mentoring duties don’t include babysitting me on a bathroom floor.”

“Hush, before I change my mind,” Tony said, closing the door behind him. He climbed down, tried not to think about how his knees protested, and sat down next to Peter’s head, his back resting against a pillow and the cabinet. “Alright, what do you want to watch?”

“You ever hear of _Steven Universe_?”

“Is that a cartoon?”

Cough. “Yeah.”

“Then we’re not watching that.”

Peter sighed, tightened the blanket around him and made a movement that might have been a shrug? It was hard to tell with the human burrito impersonation the kid had going. “I don’t care,” he said. “We can watch a movie. You pick.”

Tony looked through the movies he had available, eliminated half right away, and then saw an oldie but a goodie he hadn’t watched in maybe a decade. “How do you feel about _Independence Day_?”

Peter frowned. “Never seen it.”

Tony frowned back. “You’ve never seen _Independence Day_? That isn’t one of those ‘really old movies’ you love to watch?”

“Is it any good?”

“It’s a classic, kid,” Tony said indignantly. “Will Smith saves the world from aliens.”

Peter’s frown returned. “Pretty sure that’s _Men in Black_.”

Tony opened his mouth, closed it, and blinked. “Okay, you’re not wrong, but this is the first time he did it.”

Peter snorted and Tony pressed play, they’d almost made it to the part where the White House was destroyed when Peter’s coughing returned with a vengeance. Tony paused the movie as Peter sat up. The coughing sounded painful, but the steam was obviously working because Peter’s coughs were definitely a lot more…productive.

“Looks like our improvised sauna is working,” Tony noted, careful not to look as Peter spit into the toilet.

Peter wiped his mouth. “I really am sorry about this,” he said, moving to lie back down. “I ruined the trip.”

“Trip was not ruined,” Tony corrected. “You actually helped with the business aspect. Seems even hardened oil tycoons aren’t immune to your puppy dog charm.” Tony adjusted the pillow behind his back, considered stealing another to sit on.

“And I have to say, this isn’t the worst business trip I’ve had,” he added with a grin that quickly turned to a frown. “It also isn’t the first one I’ve spent on a bathroom floor.”

That made Peter laugh, which apparently wasn’t the best result because it just triggered more coughing, which in turn triggered more…gross.

“Alright, up,” Tony ordered, grabbing Peter’s arm and guiding him to a sitting position. “Laying down’s just gonna make it worse. Our luck, you’ll drown.”

Peter grimaced, then looked at Tony solemnly. “If I die that way, you are not allowed to tell anyone.”

“Blaze of glory all the way,” Tony deadpanned, then he narrowed his eyes, “And only at a very old age, long after I’m gone.”

“Deal,” Peter agreed. Then coughed again. He leaned his head back on the cabinet then scowled when it bumped against the edge of the counter. He tried scooting down, but then the handle of the cabinet got in the way so he just scooted back up and hunched forward dejectedly.

Tony rolled his eyes. He then scooted until he was sitting right up next to Peter, side by side, his left arm bumping up against Peter’s right. He then reached around, grabbed the kid’s head and none-too-gently guided it down until it rested on Tony’s shoulder. There fixed it.

No big deal.

Or so he thought.

Tony could _feel_ Peter thinking. And then…

“What’s happening here, Mr. Stark?”

“What do you think’s happening?”

Another pause. “Does this count as cuddling?”

“No.”

“It _feels_ like cuddling.”

“It’s not cuddling.”

“It feels like it though,” Peter said, yawning and adjusting his head so that his cheek was cushioned on Tony’s shoulder bone. “Even if it’s not.”

“Would you rather lay on the floor?”

“No,” Peter admitted, then added, “I’m contagious.”

Tony was aware. “Kid, you hacked up snot on me earlier. Pretty sure I’ve caught your cooties by now.” He shifted down so his shoulder was a little lower and Peter could lean a little more. “Besides, I’d rather you get me sick than me have to explain to May how you drowned on your own gelatinous fluids. Sitting up is better for both our health.”

“You a doctor now?”

“I have many doctorates, I’ll have you know.”

“Any of them in medicine?”

“Could have been,” Tony admitted. “But I didn’t pursue that avenue of study because I had it on good authority that my bedside manner was ‘shit’. Rhodey’s words, not mine.”

Peter yawned, adjusted his head against Tony’s shoulder and sighed. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve gotten wiser with time.”

Peter snorted again. “More like gone soft in old age.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Watch it.”

“Just press play, old man.”

They made it through the movie before Peter fell asleep, his head still pillowed on Tony’s shoulder as flu infested drool soaked into Tony’s worn t-shirt.

That was when Rhodey decided to stop by, because didn’t he always just have impeccable timing?

Rhodey leaned against the door and folded his arms across his chest as he looked down at a sweaty Tony and a slightly snoring Peter.

“You get sick, I’m not taking care of you.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

“Fine, but I ain’t cuddling with you,” Rhodey declared. He gestured his chin in Peter’s direction. “You’re not as adorable as he is.”

Peter snored, coughed, then settled back asleep, mouth still open, drool still ever present.

Tony wasn’t impressed. “Yeah, adorable.” That was a lie. He was a little impressed.

Tony could literally count the number of people that he cared about, truly deeply cared about on one hand.

And the kid was one of them.

Snot nosed cooties and all.

And yeah, it might have all started out as a desperate shot in the dark, a scared man’s last hope and frantic plea for help, but Tony was pretty sure they had moved on and put the whole Germany thing behind them.

And the Vulture fiasco too, but Tony liked to look at that as a learning experience.

For both of them.

Because yes, Pepper was right, Tony needed to be a better mentor for Peter and not just where Spider-Man was involved.

But Tony was quickly realizing that he still had a lot to learn.

Like that he didn’t have to be Iron Man to be a hero.

**Author's Note:**

> Author quietly shuffles away...


End file.
